Worth Dying For
by BuzzCat
Summary: Fleur leaves Bill, and Bill decides that the pain must stop. When he does not succeed, how does he live? And who makes him want to live? Rated for attempted suicide and strong language.


_Dear Bill,_

_ I am leaving you. We do not get along. You like Egypt and breaking curses. I do not. I like to be classy. You do not. You want children. I do not. Irreconcilable differences. We will not work. At first, I found myself happy with you. But now you come home late and smelling of sulfur. I do not like it.  
I am most sorry to tell you I have broken my vow. I have been cheating on you. My lover and I love each other very much; we are most compatible. And he speaks French. We will be very happy, and I wish you to be happy as well. Perhaps someday we will be able to speak again without pain. Again, I am most sorry._

_ Au revoir,_

_ Fleur Delacour_

Bill let the paper flutter to the floor. They'd been dating for almost two years. He'd been thinking about how he wanted to propose to her. And now… now she was gone. Bill sank into the chair behind him and Summoned the firewhiskey from its cabinet. He wasn't normally one for drinking, but this wasn't normal. Fleur was his woman, the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He'd wanted them to grow old together, to have children. And now they wouldn't.

The clock behind him chimed six o'clock. It was Tuesday at six, the time Weasley Clan dinner always commenced. But Bill didn't want to go. He wanted to sit in his big comfy chair, clutching the firewhiskey. He stared into the fire, the flames reflecting in his otherwise empty eyes. Bill didn't know how long he sat there, misery and despair filling his mind. It hurt so much. She'd said she loved him, said she wanted to spend forever together. _She didn't actually _say_ it,_ reminded a nasty voice in his mind. _You just assumed it,_ it said. Bill felt fury welling up in him. A great monster of teeth and hatred was rearing its head. Bill started with a growl. A low growl pulling its way through his throat. Slowly though, it grew and grew to be a howl of anguish and hate clawing at his throat as it ripped itself through the air. It hurt and hurt, the pain seeming never-ending. When Bill later thought about it, he was sure it was only an hour or two, but the agony made time relative. The next thing he truly knew was someone slowly leading him to the fire place and stepping into the warm green flames. Whether it was exhaustion or the whirlwind of emotions that clouded his eyes, Bill moved blindly through a house that felt familiar even to his befuddled mind. Someone was laying him in a bed, and sleep quickly took Bill.

Molly looked down at her son. When he hadn't arrived at dinner full of smiles with Phle—Fleur, she's become very concerned. By the second hour, everyone was worried. George had gone to check on his brother and had found Bill on his knees, screaming. He'd tried to bring him from his world of pain, but nothing had worked. George had grabbed the note by Bill and Apparated back to the Burrow. Molly had immediately taken charge when she saw her oldest son's eyes rolled back and his body barely moving on its own. George had helped her clear the house out with whispered reassurances of 'We'll send news,' as she carried Bill upstairs. Ginny had been in tears as she left, Harry's arm wrapped around her. As Molly had put her son on the bed, he had immediately relaxed into a sleepy haze. Molly tucked a curly bit of red hair behind his ear then walked out. After she had closed the door, George walked up to her. His face was clouded with fury as his shaking hands handed Molly the note. She opened it and read Fleur's words.

"That _woman_. That, that heinous French cow!" hissed Molly. She and George quickly went downstairs to the kitchen, where everyone had apparently reassembled in utter silence.

"What happened?" asked Hermione as she gripped Ron's hand. Molly took a deep breath,

"Fleur has left Bill. And she was none too nice about it. It appears she's been having an affair, but she doesn't say who with. She left Bill for that slime." Shouts went up around the table before Molly managed to cast a group _Silencio!_ "Bill is upstairs sleeping. Don't shout. Now you know what's going on, I suggest you all go home." She removed the spell and the room filled with quiet mutterings about 'stupid cow' and 'revenge'. Molly ignored it. If Fleur just so happened to fall into a puddle of horse manure or get hit with a few hexes walking down Diagon Alley, she wasn't about to complain. Soon the kitchen was completely empty. Molly brewed herself a cup of tea and sat down. She 'accidentally' set the kettle down on top of letter. All that was left to do now was wait. Bill would wake up soon (he'd never been able to sleep well when he was upset), and Molly wanted to be there for it.

Bill opened his eyes to the dark room. Funny, Fleur usually had the curtains open abominably early in the morning. _Fleur…_ The previous day's memories came rushing back to him, and it felt like someone had just ripped a gash in a scabbed-over wound. It hurt so much, perhaps even more so than earlier when shock had been able to numb a bit of the pain. Bill cast a quick spell and discovered it was almost two in the morning. He really ought to get some sleep. But after turning over a few times, Bill realized he couldn't sleep tonight. Every time he closed his eyes he remembered the sight of her soft pale back illuminated by moonlight, the way her silvery hair looked spread across her pillow. He jumped up and tried to quietly run down the stairs. Perhaps some good corned beef (a treat Fleur had never permitted in the house) would put him back to sleep.

He stopped short of the doorway when he saw Molly sitting at the table.

"I know you're there." She said. Billy padded into the room and took the chair across from her.

"You know?"

"I know." That was all they said for a long time. Sunlight was peeking through the window when Bill said,

"Did you know this was coming?" The words were quiet, almost a dare. Molly immediately called him on it,

"I didn't know, and I'd appreciate if you didn't accuse me of it. I had no idea Fleur was having an affair."

"What kind of filth would carry on with a married woman? True, she was married to _me_ and barely married at that, but still…"

"It takes a special brand of filth to do that." Agreed Molly. The flare of anger in that moment was the only true emotion she'd seen from him since he'd come down. Molly stood,

"Shall I put the kettle on? Tea went cold hours ago." Bill nodded and she did so. She fried some eggs, hefted a raw steak onto Bill's plate, and brought them over with the tea. He nodded gratefully and inhaled the steak. Molly shook her head,

"Haven't you been getting enough to eat?"

"Fleur didn't want to have a bunch of raw meat hanging around for too long. Said the smell made her sick." After he finished breakfast, Bill stood. "Gonna go catch some shut-eye. Be down later." He made to leave, but Molly enveloped him in a huge hug.

"If she couldn't love you the way you are, then she doesn't deserve you." she said into her giant son's shoulder. Bill nodded stiffly and walked up the stairs. Molly thought something about him seemed a little strange, but shook her head. Her boy was in pain, who was she to judge him being a bit odd?

As Bill walked up the stairs, a terrible idea tripped into his mind: What if he didn't hurt anymore? At first it was a passing fancy, a wish. But then the seed took root in the distraught man's mind, and he encouraged it. What if he managed to stop the pain? Would it truly be that bad if he left? Forever? The dragon handlers always had more applicants than space, so his job would be taken care of. Fleur wouldn't miss him a bit. His mum… well, she had five other sons. One wouldn't make that much of a difference. Yes, escaping the pain would do quite nicely. But how?

This pulled Bill up short on one of the steps. He didn't want to make a huge mess. Even if his mother wouldn't miss him that much, he still didn't want to make extra work for her. Blood was terrible to get out of anything. Jumping out the window? Bill knew he must be up on almost the fourth floor by now. But then someone would have to clean that up too. Bill gave an exasperated sigh. How was he supposed to die in a way that meant no one would have to put in too much effort to clean it up? Then it hit him: The tub. If he died there, they could Banish the body and just pull out the plug to drain the blood. It was the simplest way, the least painful way for everyone else. With this decision in mind, Bill ran to the bathroom. Locking the door behind, Bill turned to face the white tub. Well, it was almost a cream now with age. He climbed in and took a deep breath. No use in taking his clothes off. If it was Ginny who found him for some reason, there were certain things neither he nor Ginny wanted her to see. Bill pulled out his wand and took a moment to marvel at it. Long and rich wood, intricate designs lining it. If he could, Bill wanted to save it from the blood. Surely there was a place where the wands of dead people went to help those less fortunate. It wasn't as if they did the dead people that much good. Right then, stop stalling, Bill told himself. Shut up and get down to it. Someone's going to come knocking soon and they don't need to see the act itself. Bill turned his hand to his wrist and whispered,

"Sectumsempra!" A thick red line appeared and blood slowly oozed out of the tear. Bill continued casting it up his arm until he reached the elbow, where he slashed in two rips. Blood was dripping down his arm, far more blood than Bill had ever believe a single person could hold. Still, it wasn't working. Bill still hurt deep inside; the external pain was a mere papercut compared to what Bill felt inside. He proceeded to pulling up his pant leg and cutting first into his Achilles tendon and then straight to the back of his knee. Now the pain was beginning to register, the glorious physical pain that was beginning to cover the emotions. It was better, so much better than Bill had ever thought it would be. A strange smile took over his face and he continued clashing at whatever skin he could see. His face, his neck, everything was soon bathed in red. When Bill didn't have the energy to continue casting, he gently laid his wand down outside the tub and sat back, leaning against the wall. Now the bottom of the tub had a covering of an inch or two of blood, bright red and reflective. Bill closed his eyes and sighed. Now all he had to do was wait.

Much to his dismay and disappointment, Bill woke up. The first thing he registered was the bright light visible even through his closed eyes. The second thing he noticed was the tight bonds holding his arms down. His eyes flew open and Bill tried desperately not to cry out at the shock of exactly _how_ bright that light was. The muttering conversation around him now ceased as Bill felt many eyes turn to him.

"Bill?" asked a quiet voice near Bill's elbow. He squinted one eye open to see a mass of red hair next to short black hair. Ginny.

"What?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Did you do this to yourself?" Ginny asked, her voice quieter and perhaps even a little frightened. As much as Bill hated to frighten his sister, he said,

"Yes." There were a few barely audible gasps around his bed, which Bill was sure was the rest of his family.

"Were you trying to die?" asked Ginny, and Bill could hear the tears in her tone.

"Yes." No one spoke then. Bill slowly opened his eyes to find, sure enough, his mum and dad, Charlie, George, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry. He thought for a moment he even saw Percy in the doorway before maybe-Percy ducked back outside. He was brought from that contemplation by his tearful mother,

"Did it hurt you so much that you thought you couldn't live?"

"No." Bill ground out, "I just wanted the pain to stop."

"So you drink some Dreamless Sleep, sleep it off, and wake up when it doesn't hurt!" shouted Ron.

"What the hell were you thinking?" joined in Fred, also glaring at Bill through moist eyes.

"IT HURT, ALRIGHT? IT HURT A FUCKING LOT!" screamed Bill. He tried to sit up, but the straps held him down and pulled at all the newly-healed wounds up and down his arm. He flinched at the pain, and this seemed to clear his brother's minds.

"Boys, don't fight. You're upsetting your mother." Said Mr. Weasley. Everyone turned to Mrs. Weasley, who was indeed upset. She was shaking and tears poured from her eyes. She slowly stepped forward. With a speed no one would have expected from such a sweet woman, she had Ron's and George's ears in her hands and she was pulling fiercely.

"You boys will BEHAVE YOURSELVES! Your brother almost died and all you can do is snap at him!" She stared both of them down. She turned to Bill,

"And William Weasley, that kind of language would get you smacked under normal circumstances. I don't care how old you are, I'm still your mother and I will not stand for that." All three sons looked properly chastised. Just then, a Healer walked in.

"Hello, Weasleys. William, it's good to see you're up. How are you?"

"How do you think I am?" He grumbled. The Healer's smile faltered, but she continued,

"Well, I'm Healer Radman. I'm not quite sure how to say this… you're my first suicidal case, you see…"

"Just say it." Said Mrs. Weasley. Healer Radman turned to her,

"I have reviewed your son's records and have concluded that he has to stay here, in the Psychiatric Ward." Shouts went up around the room, but Bill stayed quiet_. The Psychiatric Ward… that's where they put the crazy people, right? Am I crazy?_ He thought. Healer Radman spoke over the group, "I believe we need to move him as soon as possible. Now, if everyone will excuse me, visiting days are Sundays and Thursdays, noon to five. Good day." He turned to Bill, made a motion to some assistants behind him, and they group wheeled Bill out and to a hovering platform. The Weasleys followed, still quite vocal in their disapproval. Ron was shouting insulting things about Healer Radman's mother, Hermione was trying to quiet him; Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley were shouting, but something in their eyes showed they knew this was for the best. Charlie, George, Harry, and Ginny were all marching to the front desk, ready to demand Bill's immediate release. Healer Radman ignored them all and the hovering platform carried him and Bill up through the levels to the Psychiatric Ward. They wheeled Bill out and into white room with a bathroom, a window, and a few shelves. Healer Radman leaned down until he was face to face with Bill.

"I know you don't want to be here, but this is for your own safety. When you have proved you are no longer a danger to yourself or others, you'll be free. I knew you a long time ago, you were a few years above me at Hogwarts. You were really happy; I can't imagine it should take you too long to return to the happy kid I knew." The Healer smiled kindly and stood. He left, taking the assistants with him and leaving Bill utterly alone. Bill stared at the ceiling for hours, and soon the moon rose, bringing with it Bill's roommate.

"'Ello! What 'choo doin' 'ere?" Bill turned to see a tall man standing in the doorway. He stepped forward to reveal matted black hair and a face full of acne.

"Stan Shunpike?" asked Bill. The man laughed,

"So you know me son? Wonderful boy, ain't 'e? Naw, I'm Steve Shunpike. Pleased to make yer acquaintance." Steve held out a grubby hand. When he saw Bill's restraints, he stepped back, suddenly wary, "What 'choo in 'ere for anyway?" Bill sighed,

"I tried to kill myself." Steve nodded at that.

"Yeah, I know the feelin'. I had a few Davies in 'ere. Lemme guess, it was a woman?" he asked. Even across the room, Bill could feel the man's stinking breath on his face. He tried to turn over, but only succeeded in facing the wall,

"I don't want to talk about it." He said. Steve laughed,

"I knew it! She left ya fer another man, didn't she?"

Bill was silent.

"Yeah, that's jus' the way of it. Ficklest creatures to ever walk the earth, they are. Still, we need 'em, and not just their wonderful company, eh?" asked Steve, raising his eyebrows at Bill. Bill still said nothing. Steve sighed,

"Ah well, it's off to bed wif me. Still, wif all the roomies I've 'ad, one thing I learned is: You gotta figure out what's happy. The first guy in here who tried to do 'imself in was 'ere for months before he figured that out. If you don't think of somefink happy, you go truly crazy. Figure out what you would have died for, who you would 'ave died for, and you'll be just fine." Steve nodded at his own advice and laid down. Even though Bill was sure the man was crazy, his words still filled Bill's mind that night, and sleep wouldn't come as he tried desperately to figure out what he would die for.

By that next Thursday (suicide patients weren't allowed visitors for the first week after admittance), Bill was out of the bed and was allowed to roam freely with the other patients.

"Inmates is more like it." Said Steve when Bill was first out. "We're all 'ere either a prisoner in body or in mind. That's why you gotta think of somefink 'appy. Otherwise you get to be a prisoner in yer own mind." Bill nodded. He'd spent every day and every night so far desperately trying to think of what it was that made him happy, and he thought he just might have it.

"Weasley, William." Called a Healer. Bill stood and the healer approached. "You got visitors. Family, by the looks of it." He said with a glance at Bill's hair. He led Bill out into a separate room. Molly, Mr. Weasley, George, Hermione, and Ginny were there. A large window was at the end, where two people in white coats sat on the other side to watch the proceedings. The Healer said,

"I'm going to leave, but we'll be watching from that room over there in case things get out of control for some reason." Bill nodded and the healer, left, closing the door. Molly ran to her son, embracing him where he stood. Bill hugged her back.

"Are you okay, Bill? Have they been treating you alright?" she asked.

"I've been just fine, Mum." He said. He looked up to the rest of them. "I'm just fine. It's okay." Hermione and Ginny both let out a sigh of relief, while George and Harry both just nodded. They still hadn't entirely forgiven Bill for what he tried to do. Molly however, ignored to semi-tension between Bill and the two and went back to the table, Bill sitting down next to her. She turned to him and asked,

"How've you been?"

They talked for almost an hour that day, joking and laughing. When Bill thought no one was looking though, he stared at the wall and thought of Fleur. He missed her still, but he was slowly starting to see that he wouldn't want to die for her. She had been his first thought when Steve had asked him the question, but now Bill saw she couldn't have been the best for him. She and him had, as she put it, 'irreconcilable differences'. When Bill's family waved good-bye, he was already deep in thought about who or what it was he would die for.

That night, Steve turned to him and asked,

"Hey Bill?"

"Yes?"

"Do they have as much sand as I think they do in Egypt?" said Steve. Bill laughed,

"More. It goes for miles and miles, and you can't escape it. It gets in your clothes, your hair. Even your eyes, if you're not careful. It's crazy."

"Oh. Alright. I was finkin' I'd go there if I ever get out of 'ere." He said. There was a pause, then Bill asked,

"Steve?"

"Hm?"

"What's your happy thing? The thing you'd die and live for?"

"Me?" Well, I've never figured that out. It all depends, see. On some days, it's my Stan. But then on the days he says he'll visit and he doesn't, there ain't a damn thing. Maybe my parakeets at home. But then, they annoy me a lot too. So I haven't figured it out. But I'll know it when I know it. 'Ave you figured yers out yet?" said Steve. Bill rolled on his side and stared out at the stars,

"I thought I knew it. I thought it was the woman I almost did die for. But now, now I'm not so sure." He said. Steve yawned,

"If she didn't love ya enough ter stay, she ain't worth it." The man rolled over away from Bill and fell asleep. Bill fell asleep that night, and for the first time since Fleur left him, he dreamed of the woman who'd stay and be worth it. Problem was, she'd already left him.

On Sunday, a Healer again came and called Bill's name. Bill walked into the visitor's room and came face to face with Fleur Delacour. She stood and Bill's eyes couldn't help themselves as they traveled down her body. She was as beautiful as he remembered. The dress she wore was soft, a little clingy. And it clung to a small bump at her abdomen that most definitely had not been there before.

"Fleur?" He asked.

"Bill! I 'ave been very very bad. I was wrong to break up with you. I am very very sorry." She tried to hug him, but Bill stepped back.

"What about your lover?" he questioned. Fleur laughed,

"A small affair. It is quite normal, I assure you, for a French woman to take anozzer man while her husband is away. But Leo and I, we are done now. He went back to his wife and I, I have come to come back to my husband." This time she managed to give Bill a quick peck on the cheek before he stepped back in time. He grabbed her wrists and said,

"And what about that?" He poked a finger at her belly. Fleur laughed it off, though this time her laugh sounded a little more strained,

"Zat? Zat 'as always been zere. I must 'ave put on some weight after we separated." Bill dropped her hands and stepped back, slowly circling her. He sounded almost detached as he said,

"No, no that's not just extra weight. You're pregnant, aren't you?" Fleur hung her head, tears starting to slip down her face. Bill continued, "And your Leo, he left you when he found out. It's not my baby, that's for sure." Bill's detachment slowly started to turn to anger, "And you wanted to come back here and pass it off as my baby? My baby, after you went and left me? Do you even know why I'm in here? I tried to kill myself when you were gone! And all that happened is I got chucked in the loony bin! And you have the gall, the utter stupidity, to come back and say you've changed your mind? Were you actually going to tell me you were pregnant before you whisked me out of here? Or was that another surprise you were going to drop in a little letter too?" His voice rang in the small room. Fleur still hadn't looked up. She stared at the ground, tears falling down as she kept her hands held just over her belly. Bill shook his head and banged on the door,

"She's ready to go and so am I!" he shouted. A guard appeared and brought Bill out. As he was leaving, Bill turned and said in an almost-whisper, "I really thought we were going to make it. Kids, a marriage, growing old together. I thought you were the one." His voice hardened, "But apparently you thought he was the one too." Fleur burst into tears. Bill turned and walked away without a backward glance. When he arrived at the room, Steve took one look at him and said,

"She just showed up, didn't she?"

"Who?" asked Bill.

"The woman who isn't worth dying for."

Two months later, Bill had established a sort of routine for his time in the hospital. Wake up. Eat breakfast. Go play nicely with the other inmates. Eat lunch. Think about who would be worth dying for. Learn to play checkers. Write letters to his friends in Egypt. Eat dinner. Sleep. On Thursday, his family would visit. On Sunday, Steve's family would visit. It was a world Bill quickly adjusted to. Each morning, Steve would turn to him and ask,

"Do you know who the woman is?" And each morning, Bill would shake his head.

In the afternoon, Steve was teaching him to play checkers. It was supposedly a simple Muggle game, something everyone knew but only a couple knew well. Steve had decided that Bill should be someone who knew well. Bill was slowly learning. It presented a nice challenge from the otherwise somewhat boring life of a 'patient'. While they played, they talked,

"So where'd you grow up?" asked Bill.

"London. Dinky little house on the outskirts. Probably torn down by now. You?"

"Little Ottery St. Catchpole. Me and my six siblings."

"Seven kids? Yer parents must 'ave 'ad a 'andful with you all." Said Steve. Bill laughed,

"I'm sure they did. Seven kids and only one girl in the bunch. My sister Ginny, who really was more like a guy for the first part of her life. Meanest Bat-Bogey Hex I've ever seen."

"'Ang on now. Ginny Potter? Yer little sister?"

"Yep." Said Bill, amusement now shining in his eyes. Steve stared,

"So that would make you…"

"Harry Potter's brother-in-law." Said Bill with a grin. Steve fell off his chair.

"Yer practically a celebri'y, you are!"

"Yep." Said Bill. Steve stood and wrung Bill's hand,

"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Weasley. If there's anything I can ever do for you, you just let me know." He said. Bill laughed,

"Steve, relax. It's still me, just plain ol' Bill." But these words were lost on Steve.

"I've been roomin' wit a celebri'y for months, and I never knew it!" He turned to Bill, "Say, you mind if I cut off a bit of your hair? I just think it'd give me a nice sum to live on for a bit when I get out, just to use to get my feet under me. You won't even notice it's gone, I promise."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'll shave my head for you." said Bill. Steve's eyes were round as dinner plates.

"You'd do that?"

"I would, just as soon as we can get ourselves a hair stylist." The next day, Bill shaved his head. Steve was nearly beside himself with glee.

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley. Thank you very much. I'll put it in a bag and keep it under my pillow so no one else can take it." And from then until he got out, Steve slept with Bill Weasley's hair under his pillow.

One day, after he'd been in for about three months, Bill asked Steve,

"What are you in here for?"

"Me?" Steve's happy demeanor changed in a blink. His smile turned to a sneer, gleaming eyes became black as a shark's, and his teeth almost seemed to grow points,

"I'm in for unpredictability. Least that's what the healers say. Me, I think I'm in here because I killed my wife in a bout of sheer insanity. I've been here fifteen years, and not once have I so much have hurt a fly. But if you ever ask me another question about why I'm in here, that'll change." Bill had been confronted with three-headed mummies, undead mummies, and curses that would curl your hair. But not once, in all his years of curse-breaking, had he seen a single thing so scary as Steve Shunpike unpredictable. Bill gulped, nodded, and went back to his checker-playing. He never asked Steve another question about it again.

After being in the psychiatric ward of six months, evaluation time came up. Bill put on his nicest clothes and nicest attitude and went and stood before a group of judges. They looked him up, and the looked him down.

"Do you believe you have changed?" asked one judge.

"Yes sir, I do." _'Sir'? I haven't called anyone 'sir' since Dumbledore,_ thought Bill.

"You are no longer a danger to yourself?"

"No."

"And why do you think not?" asked the judge. Bill smiled,

"Because I thought of someone worth living for."

Two days later, Bill stood on the steps of St. Mungo's, a man free to live life as he so chose. And Bill was very happy about that, especially today. If it had been another day later, he might have been too late. Bill had remembered the woman who was worth dying and living for, and he intended to find her. Today made it too easy. He smiled, picked up his suitcase, and Apparated away.

When Bill popped back into the world, he stood in front of a pond. The sun was setting, ducks swam about, and a few couples were walking across the bridge or around the shore line. However, there was one woman who sat on a bench, alone. She was staring off into the distance, eyes glazed over. Bill walked up behind her and whispered,

"Alicia Spinnet, it's been far too long." Alicia gasped and spun. She stared at him as she slowly stood up,

"But you, you're dead. I heard it, you're dead."

"Correction: I was _almost_ dead. I tried to kill myself for a woman I don't love. But then I decided to live for a woman I do love. I love you, Alicia."

"Bill, we haven't dated for almost three years. How could you love me? I left you, dumped you."

"And would you do it again? Right here, right now, would you tell me to get lost and never come back?" he asked. Alicia paused, looked ready to answer, then stopped. For a moment, Bill was afraid she'd say yes. Then she flung her arms around him and held him tight.

"No. No no no no no." They held each other tight. Bill pulled back for a moment, and kissed her. Alicia kissed him back. _This woman,_ he thought, _this woman is worth dying for._


End file.
